


Road Markers

by levitatethis



Series: Slow Burn [5]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Gen, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back on the road again, Mohinder and Gabriel find it difficult to balance their personal and professional relationship. This picks up after Mousetrap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Markers

** _~It_ ** ** _’s All Frightfully Romantic~_ **

** **

They have been on the road for a good hour before Mohinder begins to panic.  It does not come out of nowhere, unannounced and unexpected.  Gabriel, driving along steadily, has mindfully noted the increased tension emanating off of Mohinder’s rigidly held body since they first began the drive away from Detroit.

 

Initially it had been masked in idle chatter as Mohinder spoke without taking a breath about potential tactical maneuvers.  Gabriel had nodded and muttered unintelligible understandings but otherwise he had remained mum, pretending to be more interested in his efforts behind the wheel.  In fact Gabriel had been stuck in a spider web of unrelenting emotions, noticing how tightly wound Mohinder was in the passenger seat while unnerved by his own uncertainties of what awaited the Resistance (and the two of them more specifically) in the days and months ahead. 

 

Then there was the night before.

 

Of everything that Gabriel had conjured up in his unrestricted mind during the three weeks since he had last seen Mohinder, what had actually transpired between them over the course of those long dark hours had not factored in.  On the one hand it had been far less definitive physically than he would have liked.  And yet it was far more personal than he had allowed himself to expect it could be.  Being that close—Mohinder pressed against him, soft and deep kisses, locked gazes, the smile that seemed to be made just for him—had not come with a warning of what it all promised. 

 

In the car, with his thoughts all jumbled in the unanticipated and excitable calm of the afterglow, he had lost track of Mohinder’s work related ramblings until he noticed Mohinder cast a furtive glance his way before settling back against the seat in silence.

  
That was an hour ago.  In the collection of minutes that subsequently followed Gabriel set aside contemplations regarding their night together that had taken them both by surprise.  Back in the present he observed with quick glances the way Mohinder stared out the passenger window while resting his head against the seat.  He noted how Mohinder tapped his right leg up and down, fast then stopped, then fast again.  It did not escape his attention how Mohinder rubbed his left hand atop his left thigh and fidgeted the fingers of his right hand along the curve of the door by the window.  There were moments when Mohinder’s twitches quieted down, to retreat underground, but then he would be tapping his leg up and down again like a jackhammer.

 

Gabriel could guess at what plagued Mohinder, but he had also learned to beware the unexpected.  What was more curious to him then was how Mohinder’s growing concerns would eventually manifest more openly, in a distracting physical display or seemingly strange question unrelated to what was being thought or talked about.  There was a time when Gabriel would have pushed for it, trying to entice things along for his own investigative and teasing pleasure, but Mohinder was an oddity unlike the others and watching him unravel at his own pace was equally fascinating to witness.

 

Gabriel chances to look away from the road when Mohinder jolts upright and runs his hands briskly up and down this body, petting urgently at his pant pockets.  Then he is worriedly looking to the backseat before shifting forward again and feeling at his pockets once more. 

 

Gabriel smiles to himself.  “Looking for something?”

 

Mohinder furrows his brow in concentration.  “Damn it,” he mutters then raises his voice to address Gabriel.  “No—I…forget it…nothing…damn it.”

 

Gabriel glances out the driver’s window then applies telekinesis to the steering wheel in a truncated form of cruise control.  He meets Mohinder’s gaze and offers him a knowing smile.  Mohinder catches the muted laugh and regards him inquisitively as he reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out his glasses.  “So then you don’t need these?”

 

“My glasses,” Mohinder exclaims and snatches them, letting out a relieved sigh.  “You had them the whole time?”

 

Gabriel ignores the vaguely accusatory tone.  “I saw them on the kitchen table on the way out.  You must have left them there last night before you came upstairs.”

 

His words accomplish the desired intention of reducing Mohinder’s expression to one of self-consciousness as he focuses on stretching out the earpieces and fitting the glasses on his face.  Gabriel can see him trying not to look his way, instead directing his attention at his hands or at the road ahead.  Although it is unnecessary, Gabriel grips the steering wheel with his left hand and reaches his right one out to tuck a stray curl behind Mohinder’s ear. 

 

“My absentminded professor,” he says and Mohinder turns to him.  “So very distracted.”

 

“You do tend to complicate matters.” Mohinder nods his head to the road.  “Careful.  The lane is merging.”

 

Gabriel quickly snaps back to attention, removing the invisible grip on the wheel and taking it with both hands.  Once the flow of traffic is steady again he remarks, “If it was easy you’d be bored.”

 

When Mohinder does not reply Gabriel looks over to find him gazing his way with thoughtfulness etched in the deep-set lines across his forehead and narrowed eyes.

 

“Probably,” Mohinder says, unfolding the word slowly.

 

 

 

 

** _~And The Peaceful Quiet You Create For Me, And The Way You Keep The World At Bay For Me~_ **

They take turns behind the wheel.  Driving in shifts makes the journey far less arduous and long stretches of road create the welcome illusion of forever.  This is one of those occasions where the destination, the full stop, works better as a never arrived at pinpoint on a map.  In the car, with the horizon constantly moving away, it feels like they have all the time in the world.

 

Mohinder likes to be in the driver’s seat.  Paying attention to the vehicles around him and to the geographic markings that guide their route, he can temper the hot flush of feelings that course a path through his mind and body.  In the passenger seat he cannot help but let his mind become intoxicated by memories of Gabriel holding him close, tasting him; being _with_ him.  Without the driving to distract, Mohinder can get lost in remembrances of Gabriel’s eyes consuming him whole—

 

_What big eyes you have._

 

Mohinder has never felt so desired and the arousal, more than physical it is also cerebral, that flares up in him is frighteningly wondrous.  Even when trying to think about the mission at hand his mind diverts along its own preferred path.  Being the driver is much better.  It affords him control.  They discuss all manner of subjects and it is like days long passed all over again, but now with an ease of togetherness that was previously only hinted at and tentatively circled.

 

Within those moments of breached borders it comes to Mohinder’s amused attention that Gabriel has a liking for resting his left hand high up on Mohinder’s thigh.  When he first does it he startles Mohinder so badly that he nearly causes them to swerve off the road.  But Gabriel does not shrink back.  Mohinder supposes that Gabriel perceives the rush of blood to his groin (which must sound like a freight train with his sensitive hearing) as an invitation to remain where he is.

 

There is most definitely an element of a controlled tease in the actions.  Mohinder recognizes the glint in Gabriel’s eyes, challenging him to chastise the touch or admit he really does enjoy being felt up in the car.  A few times Mohinder has asked him to stop, softly but awkwardly telling Gabriel that he cannot concentrate.

 

But the other times…

 

Mohinder wonders if Gabriel feels a sense of comfort in the touch.  More than once Gabriel has absentmindedly rested his hand on Mohinder’s thigh while daydreaming out the window or shutting his eyes for a nap.  His motivations do not make the touches any less of a turn on for Mohinder but they also give him details worth pondering, wonderings of just how deep this connection between them runs.  He knows where he stands (most of the time), but as much as he can piece together about Gabriel there is still the thrill and uncertainty of the undiscovered.

 

In time Mohinder relaxes into the touch as his body instinctively responds of its own accord.  Sometimes he drops his right hand over top and threads their fingers together, letting the heat of their bodies jump through skin cells.  The physical contact is a conversation in itself.  With Gabriel in dreamland, Mohinder rubs his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Gabriel’s hand.  The gesture is simple and very personal but it also grounds Mohinder with a heightened awareness of them in the car, his being bound to Gabriel in the middle of nowhere.

 

However, long hours are long hours and a straight road turns into a hypnotic minefield.  Mohinder swears he only shuts his eyes for a second but the car jerks under his touch causing his stomach to lurch as he quickly tightens his grip on the wheel and tries to straighten them out.  Gabriel is bolted upright and anxiously looks at Mohinder while bracing himself with his left hand against the dashboard and his right hand against the door.

 

“Sorry, I just—,”

 

“It’s my turn to drive.”

 

There should be an argument.  Mohinder should resist and deny he is too tired.  He should insist that Gabriel is overreacting.  But Gabriel is looking at him with such concern in piercing dark eyes, blinking back worry, that it takes his breath away and he decides against drawing out a useless fight filled with banter better suited to the middle of the day when both are wide awake enough to appreciate their own wittiness.

 

Mohinder sighs and nods and at the next pit stop two minutes away he pulls over.  He waits in the car, staring at the fluorescent lights of the fast food restaurant filled with their fellow night travelers, while Gabriel gets out of the car and walks over to the driver’s side, opening the door.  Mohinder releases the seatbelt and steps out of the car, coming chest to chest with Gabriel.

 

“Get in the back,” Gabriel says softly, bowing his head.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Gabriel cups Mohinder’s neck with his right hand and looks up.  “You’ll be able to catch some sleep better if you lie down in the back.”  He crosses his left arm and points his index finger at the closed backdoor.  With an upward twitch he unlocks it and with a following motion of a downward finger scoop upwards he pulls up the door handle and opens it.

 

Mohinder yawns his compliance and, after Gabriel lifts his glasses from his face for safekeeping, he crawls into the backseat, with Gabriel closing the door behind him.  He is tall enough to not easily curl up across the seat but lying down shoots exhaustion forward.  Mohinder reaches to the floor for the jacket that was tossed there hours before and, finding it, bunches it up into a makeshift pillow.  For a moment the new position also serves to awaken him. 

 

His position provides him the perfect viewpoint from which to watch Gabriel.  Between the scattered lights that line the highway and the beams of oncoming traffic, Gabriel’s face is lit up.  Mohinder observes the deliberate focus that takes over his face with his eyes straight ahead and occasional glances to the rearview mirror, his jaw clenched tight.

 

In the backseat Mohinder feels safe and vulnerable.  He is reminded of sprawling across the seat in the back of his parent’s car while his father drove and spoke with his mother about things Mohinder could not understand.  Like back then, loosely moving in the car, essentially subject to its every bump and turn, he is now conscious of being at the whim and mercy of the person driving.  But there is also trust, an understanding that this person has taken up the burden of his safety and protection. 

 

Mohinder feels cared for—at least as much as he can be, but it is difficult to find the adequate words.  He settles for gazing wonderingly at Gabriel’s profile.  He tries to imagine what is playing out in Gabriel’s mind but his blank face gives nothing away and what could pass as mysterious also suggests guarded secretiveness.

 

Unexpectedly Gabriel looks down at the radio and—_smiles_?  Curiosity piqued, Mohinder listens to the song long enough to know that he does not recognize it.  But Gabriel does, and Mohinder finds he is more intrigued by his reaction than the song itself.  Whatever it is, whatever it means, it has Gabriel looking more relaxed, casually watching the road and tapping the steering wheel with his right hand.  The change in his composure is striking, yet knowing that Gabriel is enjoying himself with unreserved ease, not knowing he is being watched, drifts peace of mind over Mohinder like a blanket.

 

He closes his eyes and slips into an awkward sleep.

 

 

 

 

** _~What_ ** ** _’s Your Damage?~_ **

Gabriel is trying to keep himself in check.  With Mohinder waiting in the car, antsy to get moving again, Gabriel finds himself in a fast food line that has suddenly come to a complete stop.  He hears the annoyed utterances of the teenage boy behind him and the muffled obscenity from the older woman in front.  Staring down the line he spies the reason for the attitude shift.  A man is trying to pay for his food with a cheque.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gabriel mumbles to himself.

 

The woman in front of him turns and rolls her eyes at him, saying, “I always seem to end up in the lines with people who don’t know how to just pay.”

 

Gabriel gives her a placating smile then retreats into his own mind.  With time being of the essence (and not particularly caring to draw out his time standing amongst the tired and annoyed versions of John and Jane Q Public), he thinks about tossing the man up to the ceiling with a flick of his finger.  Maybe he could suffocate the oaf by shoving his face in the tray of toppings?  Gabriel imagines incising a smooth cut across the man’s neck, through skin, muscle and bone and curls up a half smile at the thought of the gurgling sounds the man would emit as blood seeped from his parted lips and skin. 

 

Gabriel could just electrocute the idiot.  Mohinder would be none the wiser out in the car and Gabriel is fairly certain the other people in line would appreciate the definitive action.  He glares at the back of the useless man and sees the flustered cashier quickly inspect the impatient line that is growing. She looks back at the persistent man and nods.

 

Gabriel recognizes the passive resistance in her act. Back when he fixed watches for a living (so long ago but he still recalls it vividly) he had to deal with all types, including those who felt they knew how to do his job better than he did.  He used to entertain macabre thoughts about them too but now having the resources to inflict serious damage makes him work harder at not taking the easy way out.  With that said, he still considers ripping this man’s head off to be beneficial to society.

 

He is a second away from snapping and jerking his right index finger slightly when the man’s female companion cuts into the line beside him and throws some money apologetically on the counter.  The cashier relaxes with a tired smile on her lips and the line lets out a collective sigh of relief.  Irritation, so heavy and dense a moment ago, is swiftly lifted.

 

Not that it makes a huge difference for Gabriel.  Outward manifestations of stress simply retreat back inside to continue reeking havoc on his mind.  It had all seemed fine—or was easy to play out—until Peter had shown up outside the motel room door the night before with a packed duffle bag of clothes, some travel amenities, and updated information for their mission. 

 

Even though Mohinder was already crashed out on the bed, dead to the world from long hours on the road, Peter had still hushed his stern warning for Gabriel_.  “If anything happens to him, Sylar, I swear to god I__’ll kill you.”_

Gabriel had kept the details of the conversation that followed from Mohinder.  He knew that to tell him would only result in Mohinder nonchalantly saying that Peter was only being overprotective, but they would both know the truth—Mohinder is the most susceptible to those who would wish them harm.  What Gabriel did not say to either of them was that if something happened to Mohinder he would not stop Peter from enacting out any misconceived act of justice.

 

It is unusual for Gabriel to regard someone else’s well being as much as he does himself.  The emotions behind his motivations, pushing his wants and uncertainties, are far more intense than he ever imagined.  If it is possible to feel both invincible and exposed all at once, Gabriel has no doubt he is the living, breathing example.  For all the powers he can put to use; Mohinder’s life deserves them all but could also be the lynchpin in them being taken them away.  The simplicity of understanding complicates it all.

 

The line shuffles along and by the time Gabriel is walking out to the car a half hour has passed, not the ten minutes he was expecting.  He glances around the parking lot noticing the array of license plates from all over the country, and a few from Canada, that decorate the dull gray landscape. 

 

Ten feet from the car he realizes that Mohinder is not there.  Gabriel steps up his pace and yanks open the driver’s side door.  Bending half inside he places the paper bag with sandwiches on the seat and puts his hands on other side, narrowing his inspective gaze.  The passenger door is unlocked but otherwise nothing seems odd.

  
Gabriel stands up straight and scans the other cars.  He knows the simple explanation is that Mohinder has gone to the washroom but he cannot dismiss the knot in his stomach at the possibility that Mohinder was lured from the car.  Gabriel’s throat feels tight and sore when he swallows and he begins to breathe more shallowly, rapidly.  He closes his eyes and fists his hands on either side of his body.  He wills deeper breaths to slow down the chaos of his heart and the rush of blood that is racing through his body.

  
_Thirty minutes…shouldn_ _’t have waited._

_If anything happens to him, Sylar, I swear to god I_ _’ll kill you._

_They'll know how to get to him using you._

_Focus._

He fine-tunes his hearing trying to zero in on the familiar.  He cuts through and discards the dizzying conversations, the bells as registers open, the dripping of water from a tap that has not been shut off properly, the sizzle of oil browning strips of potatoes.  All are heard and ignored until he finds the one he is searching for.

 

_That_ heartbeat.  It pumps in a rhythm that is as unique to Gabriel as a fingerprint.  It sounds steady but distant and he is not willing to take any chances.  Opening his eyes he slams the car door shut and stalks back to the building.  The closer he gets the louder Mohinder’s heartbeat sounds out in his head like a siren song until Mohinder is in front of him, walking out of the building with a newspaper in his hand. 

 

Relief trips out in Gabriel’s harsh and anxious reprimand. “What are you doing?”

 

Mohinder’s eyes widen then narrow at the argumentative tone and he holds up the paper.  “I wanted to read what was going on in the world—though this bloody thing is two days old.”

 

Gabriel is uncomfortable as he regards Mohinder sizing him up, likely noting the tension in his stiff shoulders, as he walks by and heads to the car.  Gabriel takes a meditative breath but it does little to relieve his annoyance over being placed in an unnecessarily scary situation.  He turns and jogs a few steps to Mohinder’s side.

 

“You can’t just take off without warning.”

 

Mohinder stops short and Gabriel is two strides past him before he pulls up and turns around.  Mohinder is staring at him, his brow furrowed and mouth curled up at the right side in aggravation.

 

“I didn’t realize I needed permission to stretch my legs,” Mohinder says.

 

“That’s not what I mean.” Gabriel raises his palms upwards in a pacifying gesture.

 

“You were gone for ages,” Mohinder points out, walking forward.  “I needed to use the washroom and get something to read.  We’ve been in the car so long I’m going stir crazy.”

 

“I get that.” Gabriel turns and closes the distance to the car with Mohinder following behind.  He stops at the driver’s door, opening it, and then folds his arms across the top of the car and watches Mohinder walk around to the other side.  “But you know it’s too dangerous to just go off.  You knew were I was and should have found me.”

 

Mohinder yanks open the passenger door and huffs in irritation.  “Yes sir!  I’ll keep that in mind for next time, sir!”  He rolls his eyes and takes his seat.

 

Gabriel rubs his right hand across his forehead and back through his hair.  He does not mean to sound so commandeering but walking that line between the honesty of what needs to be done and why Mohinder is more important to him than the welfare of the Resistance is something Gabriel has not yet mastered.  Distanced coldness is his protective default position.

 

Gabriel gets in the car, handing the bag of food over to Mohinder who tosses it to the dashboard.  He sticks the key in the ignition and clicks the seatbelt into place while Mohinder reads the front page of the paper.  Gabriel grips the wheel with both hands but makes no move to begin the next leg of their drive.  He stares straight ahead and from the corner of his eyes sees the paper shuffle in Mohinder’s hands.

 

“You know if you turn the key it actually starts the car,” Mohinder breaks the quiet.

 

Gabriel does not respond, instead staring forward as messy thoughts fight for control.  Having Mohinder mad at him is the last thing he needs right now.

 

“Gabriel?”

 

He hears the concern in Mohinder’s voice and closes his eyes before turning the ignition.  Revving the car he avoids Mohinder’s inquiring stare and pulls out of the parking lot.

 

 

** **

** **

** _~I Did It The Best I Could While I Was Stuck In This Place~_ **

“Classy.”

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed with his bag tossed on the floor at his feet, Mohinder eyes Gabriel as he wanders the layout of the room.  “It’s a Holiday Inn,” Mohinder says, unsure as to what makes it worthy of Gabriel’s emphatic commendation.

 

Gabriel opens the closet and peers inside.  “For us it’s classy.”

 

Mohinder scoffs in agreement and continues to watch Gabriel do everything except sit down.  They have barely said a word to each other since the pit stop mishap (the following hours Mohinder had mindfully labeled, _‘the era of stubborn pride__’_) and though it can all be written off as anxious cabin fever, that diagnosis is far too easy for what is really pressing down so undeniably.

 

The two of them alone in the safety of the hotel room should present the perfect time and place to clear the air instead of letting false normalcy fester until they are reduced to going through the motions in an attempt to not rock the boat.  But they can only make headway if Gabriel sits down and stops commenting on the soaps and complimentary shampoo and conditioner set.

 

Mohinder leans forward and loosely grasps his hands together between his parted knees.  “About earlier,” he says trying to initiate the conversation while looking over his left shoulder at Gabriel who seems more intent on opening and closing the nightstand drawers at the side of the bed.

 

Mohinder sighs.  “It’s a hotel room, not a treasure trove.”

 

Gabriel stands up and glares down at him as he walks around the bed.  When he crosses in front, Mohinder grabs his right hand and holds strong to stop Gabriel from walking away.  He silently demands Gabriel’s distracted gaze, shifting to the side, return his. When it finally does there is defeated acquiescence in the look.  With their hands still together Gabriel sits down next to him and they sit in quiet for a few moments before he lies back.

 

Mohinder drops his hand but remains sitting up.  After a minute he feels Gabriel reach up under his shirt and stroke the small of his back.  Mohinder closes his eyes and smiles, undulating in the warmth from Gabriel’s touch and the calm it sweeps over him at such a precarious time.  He rests his right hand on Gabriel’s leg.  If he could control the circumstances that they find themselves in he would like nothing more than to lie back and curl up against Gabriel’s body while they talk about all sorts of things that others find stuffy and academic but they know to be intriguing and exciting—scientific theory, philosophy, literature.  Where others might see social weirdness, he sees the most enticing pillow talk.

 

Mohinder lets out a soft moan and drops his head down a bit, relaxing at the light pressure against his back.  Although his heart races excitedly from the blood rush he manages to keep his breathing steady.

 

“I overreacted,” Gabriel says quietly but his tone is not apologetic.  Rather it is off hand and dismissive, as if the assertion alone should halt the progress of their conversation.

 

Mohinder raises his head and stares at the open bathroom door.  “But you didn’t,” he says and looks over his right shoulder at Gabriel.  “Not really.  You did exactly what I would have.”

 

Gabriel continues to massage his back but he slows down the motion to a tentative touch.  “You think Peter was right.”

 

“I think there’s truth to what he said,” Mohinder states after a pause.

 

“I jumped the gun, that’s it,” Gabriel counters and drops his hand.  “Don’t overanalyze it.  I was—,”

 

“Worried.”

 

Gabriel says nothing as he sits up and stares straight ahead while Mohinder takes in the strong defiant lines of his profile, working hard to keep emotions at bay.

 

“I saw it in your face, heard it in your voice.  You were panicked,” Mohinder says leaning towards Gabriel.

 

“Considering everything, shouldn’t I be?” Gabriel asks with a flatness to his rhetorical tone.

 

“For now—maybe—it might—,”

 

Mohinder’s stammering turns Gabriel’s attention fully on him and there is now curiosity in his crinkled eyes and lined brow.

 

“You’ve always been so good at compartmentalizing,” Mohinder says settling on a coherent sentence.  With no prodding from Gabriel, he continues.  “In here, like this, being _with_ you is everything.  But out there we’re a distraction that will only make us do things we normally wouldn’t.”

 

“So?”

 

“There was a time when you were resolute and unwavering in what you believed needed to be done—from before we worked together and then after we began.  You were more fearless in your actions.”

 

“I believe you referred to me as ruthless,” Gabriel says knowingly.

 

At the refusal to accept any sugarcoating of the past Mohinder looks away to the window with the curtains drawn, then back to him.  “Yes…and it worked.  No matter what was happening already between us we were still on point.  If we let _us_ bleed into that world…we risk losing sight of what needs to be done.”

 

“You act like it’s a light switch that can be turned on and off.”  Gabriel shakes his head.

 

“If it has to be,” Mohinder suggests, trying to portray an air of common sense. 

 

Gabriel is not biting.  “Just because it was easy before doesn’t mean I can just do it at your order.”

 

“If the mission is going to work, then you’ll have to.”

 

“It’s not that straightforward—,”

 

“It can be—,”

 

“Not when—,”

 

“When what?”

“When there’s something lose!”

 

The declaration is just past Gabriel’s lips when he is on his feet standing over Mohinder.  It is the type of heartfelt confession that flushes Mohinder’s skin while simultaneously reinforcing why it is pertinent that they are careful and on top of their game.  Mohinder reaches out to him but Gabriel steps away.

 

“I need you to not worry about me out there,” Mohinder says, dropping his hands at his side in disappointment at the tone of their conversation.  “You need to stick with what you would always do.  I can hold my own—always have…some way or other.”

 

Gabriel returns his unwavering gaze then says, “I’m tired,” as he kicks off his shoes.  Moving to the side of the bed he slips off his black t-shirt and jeans, folding the items and placing the tidy stack on the dresser drawer up against the wall.  Down to just his black boxer briefs he sits on the side of the bed with his back to Mohinder and pulls off his socks which he telekinetically sends over to the dresser to rest on the pile of clothes.  He stands up and pulls back the covers from one side of the bed.

 

“Can’t we talk about this?” Mohinder asks exasperatedly at the abrupt end to their conversation.

 

“Why?” Gabriel says nonchalantly.  “It’s clear—you know how to behave professionally and I need to get my act together.”

 

“Is that really what you took from what I said?” Mohinder looks at him incredulously.  “There’s nothing easy about this for me.  I need you to be…or I…”

 

“Turn the light out, would you?” Gabriel shuts him down as he lies on his back and pulls the blanket up.

 

Mohinder sits stunned for a minute gazing at Gabriel’s covered form.  There is no point in pushing further tonight unless he wants to turn the evening into a blowout.  He gets up and undresses, placing his glasses on the dresser then tossing his clothes to the floor in a pile until he too is only in his boxers.  Moving around to the free side of the bed he pulls the covers down and turns off the lamp.  Crawling into the bed he shivers from the cold chill of the fresh sheets and scoots towards Gabriel.  The subtle hint of heat emanating from his body calls Mohinder closer.

 

He can smell the sweat from the day stifled in the car that still clings to Gabriel’s body.  It goes right to Mohinder’s groin and he feels the urge to return some physical rendering of his care in place of words that are doomed to be misunderstood.  He angles his right arm up under his pillow.  Unsure at first he then decisively stretches his left arm across Gabriel’s chest, resting his palm against the downward curve of his torso.  Shifting forward and pressing his chest against Gabriel’s left arm, Mohinder touches a kiss to Gabriel’s neck and whispers. “Do this for me.”

 

Gabriel turns on his side, away from Mohinder.  In the movement, however, he also wraps his arms up across Mohinder’s outstretched one and pulls him snug to his back, in a half embrace.  Mohinder settles up against him, nuzzling his nose to his neck, and Gabriel increases his body temperature to warm Mohinder some more. 

 

Mohinder gets little sleep that night and judging by Gabriel’s quick breathing and stiff form, neither does he.

 

 

 

** _~I Am Jack_ ** ** _’s Complete Lack Of Surprise~_ **

 Gabriel wishes he had acquired a power that allowed him to see in all directions at once.  As it is he has to refer to the rearview mirror far more frequently than he would like.  The one thing sparing his patience is that Mohinder, next to him, is too consumed with the file on Adethe that Peter had packed into his bag to notice they are being followed.

 

_Black four door Mazda 3._

 

Gabriel is determinedly focused.  Mohinder was right about compartmentalizing, and though it takes a concerted effort to follow through it is actually not as difficult.  Rather than an impediment, he has placed the more intimate side of their relationship in an untouchable—except when it is just them—corner of his mind.  Otherwise they are partners with a job on their plate.  Still, it is a test to ignore that it is _Mohinder_ sitting next to him.

  
_Blue Mini Cooper with white racing stripes down the front._

 

Gabriel is unimpressed with their pursuers.  Their tactics, mostly consisting of switching up the appearance of their car every five or ten minutes, is uncreative and amateurish at best.  He is insulted that this is who has been sent after them.  Surely he alone has earned only the best.  There are no excuses for the plebs.

 

With a glance to the mirror he sees them getting too close (another inexcusable mistake), and had he not already made them out one hour earlier this would surely have done it.  Annoyed at their ineptitude, Gabriel swerves into the left lane, scoffing derisively as they instinctively do the same thing instead of hanging back and playing it cool.  It would be amusing if not for Mohinder’s startled shout as his tea, momentarily placed on the dashboard so that he could turn the page, tumbles forward.

 

Gabriel stops it midair.  His ability is so fine-tuned he also stops the spray of orange pekoe tea while keeping the car steady.  Gabriel curves up his right hand directing the tea back into the paper cup, the lid clamped back on top, and then directs it to Mohinder’s outstretched left hand.

 

“You might want to use the cup holder,” Gabriel says glancing back in the mirror.

 

“Yes, well I did not realize we would be partaking in bumper cars.”  Mohinder inspects the cup then sticks it in the round holder to his left.

 

“Just having a little fun,” Gabriel replies, distracted enough that Mohinder settles his attention on him.

 

“It’s an absolute blast—what are you looking at?”

 

Gabriel considers lying as a way to avoid involving Mohinder in something that will be over with soon enough but ultimately decides against it.  “We’re being followed.”

 

“What?” Mohinder’s eyes go wide and he twists in his seat to look out the back window.  “Who?  Where?”

 

“Blue Mini.”

 

Mohinder continues to look out the back then says, “There’s no blue Mini.”

 

Gabriel looks in the mirror.  “Red minivan—these guys are totally uninspired.”  

Mohinder is quiet as he sits back and looks ahead.  “How long have you known?”

 

Gabriel casts a brief sideways look and bites the inside of his lip.  “About an hour.”

 

Disbelief flashes across Mohinder’s face and he drops his jaw, saying, “And you didn’t consider that important enough to share?”

 

Gabriel sighs.  “Not really, definitely not these guys.  They’re incompetent.”

 

“To you,” Mohinder says.  “I should like to know when I’m being tracked.”

 

“It’s being handled.”

 

“Is that why they’re still following us after an hour?”

 

Gabriel presses his lips tightly together. Psychologically the action helps him barricade the flood of words pushing to rush out.  “You need to make up your mind,” he eventually mutters.

 

“About you sharing information with me as your partner?” Mohinder turns to confront him.

 

Gabriel narrows his eyes and grips the steering wheel tight, turning his knuckles pale white.  “About how you want this to actually work.  You insist I follow through with how I always do things so that we’re not victims of distraction, but then you question the manner in which I do it!”

 

Mohinder shakes his head and makes a pointed gesture with his right hand.  “I’m not trying to question what you deem necessary, but I need to know what’s going on and why.”

 

“So that you can be worried over things you can’t change?”

 

“So that I may be useful if you need me.”

 

Gabriel takes his eyes off the road and carefully observes Mohinder’s stern, insistent expression. 

 

“You want to be useful?” Gabriel asks, feeling the unspoken need to test Mohinder’s latest assertion while also, finally, dropping the surveillance tail.  “I need to do a 360.”  It is a lie.  Gabriel could handle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum without resorting to extreme measures but he wants to make a point to Adethe and to ensure that Mohinder stands by what he claims as truth.  It is a matter of trust.

 

Mohinder’s face drops with uncertainty over the statement.  Gabriel knows he remembers the last time they used this move in Europe.  For a second Mohinder appears doubtful and Gabriel wonders if—

 

“Make sure you don’t take out anyone else in the process,” Mohinder says in a shaky voice and he sits back, shoving the file that has fallen between the seat and the center compartment under his body.  He pulls at the seatbelt strap that crosses his chest to make sure it will hold.

 

Gabriel quirks up the corner of his mouth, impressed and feeling vindication for the personal connection he never thought he would want—should need—until it refused to let go.  “As you wish.”

 

Two seconds later he turns the steering wheel hard left and the car spins around with a forceful speed that seems to counter gravity and is only held on a survivable tangent by an exertion of his own power to keep them from flipping over.  He grits his teeth and hears Mohinder suck in a sharp intake of breath.

 

As fast as the car turns, Gabriel sees their pursuers hit their breaks and, with a little help from him, the minivan sideswipes the median and careens out of control across the center lanes, flipping over repeatedly towards the shoulder and into the field to the right. 

 

While other cars honk and screech, breaking to stop and avoid a massive pile up, Gabriel straightens out his own car, spinning the steering wheel back around, and calmly continues driving.

 

 

 

 

** _~Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying~_ **

 Between the pressing close quarters of the car, the near death experience on the highway, and San Antonio growing closer by each minute, it is a mere few seconds (enough time to drop his bag and toss his glasses on top) before Mohinder is pressed up against Gabriel in the motel room, pushing him hard against the wall.

 

He is desperate to touch every single part of Gabriel, mapping him out under his fingertips and lips, to taste his scent and devour him whole.  Pushing Gabriel’s shirt halfway up his chest so that it bunches under his arms, Mohinder is then licking and sucking his neck while blindly undoing Gabriel’s jeans, working his fingers to the point of near soreness while he fumbles to push the button backwards through the slit and then pushes down on the zipper. 

 

For his part Gabriel pants and moans, kissing the top of Mohinder’s head while trying to wrap his arms around him, forcing him closer.  Mohinder yanks Gabriel’s waist forward and slides his jeans down just past his hips, grabbing at his ass and pushing his own jean covered hard on against Gabriel’s which is still concealed in his boxers.

 

This should not be fast or rushed.  Not this time. 

 

Lustful is for later on when they can hardly contain themselves between pit stops and make a gas station bathroom the witness to their urgent desires.  Quick and hard is for blow jobs on dirt roads after they gaze heatedly at each other across the car, and then Mohinder’s forehead against the backseat upholstery, rubbed red, as Gabriel thrusts into him from behind, his hands bruising Mohinder’s hips as he pulls and pushes.  Raw and passionate is for the safe house in San Antonio with Gabriel, his legs around Mohinder’s hips, arching up and moaning while Mohinder pins his arms above his head and pounds into him, refusing to break eye contact.

 

That is what it should be, all those times that come next.  Not now.

 

But Mohinder does not try to force himself to take it slower.  His mortality suddenly looms over him like a prophecy and he wants to ensure that the depth of his—_their_—want and need, in all its fiery irrationality, is forever etched in time.  And with the way Gabriel is grabbing back at him, Mohinder knows that urgency is returned.

 

Until, that is, Gabriel suddenly flips them around so that Mohinder is flush against the wall.  Mohinder reaches out to pull him closer but Gabriel grabs both his hands as if he were controlling a child and stares coal dark eyes at him.

 

“Come on,” Mohinder gasps, keening towards him.  When that does not work he tries to pull his held arms close to his body to force Gabriel’s momentum forward.  But Gabriel is abruptly all seriousness and stays still.

 

“Not like that,” Gabriel says through heavy breaths, his eyes half closed like he is trying to anchor himself to some invisible force Mohinder is not in his right mind to make sense of.

 

Confused, Mohinder asks, “Like what?”

 

Gabriel opens his eyes and levels masterful unblinking eyes in a demanding gaze until Mohinder stops moving and rests his head back against the wall with a frustrated sigh.  Gabriel drops his hands and takes a step back, pushing his shirt down and pulling his jeans up slightly.  “Don’t do it like that because you think this is going to be the end.  Don’t turn us into a now or never.”

 

Mohinder’s haphazard state renders Gabriel’s words a meaningless puzzle that tells him nothing other than he is not wanted right now.  He has let his own need to be with Gabriel in any which way derail what should be far more honest.  Feeling rejected and embarrassed for even thinking to initiate sex at this point in their journey (when there are actual big picture issues of life and death that take legitimate priority), Mohinder drops his gaze to the floor, pulls himself up tall (in a hopeless attempt to salvage his pride) and begins to walk towards the bed.

 

Gabriel grabs his left arm and pulls him close.  Mohinder knits his brow questioningly and Gabriel, his eyes much softer now, whispers, “Not like _that_,” before his lips are lightly touching Mohinder’s, their heated breath mixing in the middle.  When Gabriel slips his tongue between his parted lips, Mohinder understands.

 

The kiss that follows is drawn out and so slow that Mohinder thinks he could come from this alone.  He allows Gabriel to take the lead, nearly melting from the rush of heat that flushes his body.  Gabriel nips and pulls at his top lip before slipping his tongue forward, again, to meet Mohinder’s.  He moves his hands from Mohinder’s hair down his body to unbutton Mohinder’s shirt and slides it off his shoulders, to the floor.

 

Gabriel steps back and Mohinder’s body is awash in goose bumps as he watches Gabriel drag his eyes down his chest, stopping at his still buttoned jeans.  Under his possessive gaze, Mohinder feels his erection straining uncomfortably against his pants, his hardness growing without being touched.  His eyes not wavering from Mohinder’s noticeable arousal, Gabriel pulls his t-shirt up over his head and tosses it backwards over his shoulder. 

 

Mohinder watches him reach down the front of his pants and start rubbing himself overtop his boxers.  He lifts his eyes slowly back up Mohinder’s body until he meets the returned hazy gaze.  Mohinder’s breathing hitches, rough in his throat, and all he wants is to be inside of Gabriel, moving at a pace set just for them.  But, more importantly, he wants Gabriel to determine the course.  Mohinder remains too unclear and overwhelmed to not risk messing this up again.

 

Still rubbing himself with his right hand Gabriel reaches out to Mohinder and pulls him along by the top of his jeans as he walks backwards to the bed.  Once at the edge Gabriel sits down and stares up at Mohinder, skimming his left hand up Mohinder’s stomach then resting it on his hips.  He raises an eyebrow and Mohinder shifts to push his shoes off using the toes of one foot against the heel of the other.  Gabriel muffles a grin as Mohinder does the same with his socks before kicking them and the jeans out from under him. 

 

Saying nothing, Gabriel uses an invisible touch to unbutton Mohinder’s jeans and slide them down his legs, letting him step out of them.  Mohinder realizes he may as well not even be wearing boxers for all the good that the garment is doing to keep him contained.

  
Gabriel begins pressing down harder on himself, emitting a muffled whimper, and leans forward to put his mouth over Mohinder’s clothed length.  He gently licks at the material, sucks at it and softly bites at the cotton over the straining flesh.  Mohinder’s knees buckle at the touch and he grabs Gabriel’s shoulders for balance.

 

“Gabriel” he moans breathlessly and pushes his face against the top of Gabriel’s hair, breathing in the scent of a no name shampoo.  “My bag…”

 

“Mmmm,” Gabriel sighs against him and the wet heat breaks what little concentration Mohinder still has left.

 

Mohinder pants, gritting his teeth, and then opens his mouth to whisper throatily against Gabriel.  “The—my—bag—”

 

Gabriel unexpectedly shifts back, causing Mohinder to move up while still remaining hunched over him.  With an amused smile Gabriel calls forth Mohinder’s bag to rest on the bed and uses telekinesis to unzip it, tossing clothes aside until the bottle of lube is in sight.  He raises it and lands it on the bed next to them.  The small smile on his face makes Mohinder grin.

 

“Why Mohinder, were you expecting me to put out?” Gabriel says innocently.

 

Mohinder runs his hands through Gabriel’s hair.  “Unless you haven’t been coming on to me…most definitely.”

 

Gabriel angles his face to kiss the inside of Mohinder’s wrist.  “You’re too smart for your own good.”

 

Mohinder leans down and quickly flicks his tongue up across Gabriel’s parted lips, then coaxes him into another lingering, seemingly endless kiss, before pulling back slightly.  “That’s always been a problem with me,” he says and kneels down to help pull Gabriel’s boots and socks off before settling in to remove his pants completely.

 

Refusing to break from Gabriel’s gaze, Mohinder follows the drawn out removal of the jeans with heated kisses to the bared skin.  When the jeans are past Gabriel’s knees, Mohinder shifts up on his own knees and presents Gabriel with a small smile and raised eyebrow while he pushes down aggressively on the pants, forcing them off Gabriel’s legs.

 

He stands up again and is taken by the sight of Gabriel slowly moving back on the bed rolling off his boxers and tossing them to the floor.  The salacious display is the single most breathtaking and speech defying moment of Mohinder’s life.  That it is for him makes him want to do everything in his limited power to make the outside world no longer exist so that he can have this over and over.

 

“When are you going to learn?” Gabriel asks coyly, languidly stroking his stiff cock, rubbing his thumb across the tip then working his hand up and down again in long slow strokes.

 

Mohinder shoves his boxers down and crawls over top of Gabriel.  Their hardened lengths rub against each other and Gabriel hisses a sharp intake of breath, bringing his hands to either side of Mohinder’s face, drinking in Mohinder’s groans at the oversensitive touch. 

 

With one hand on Gabriel’s hip, Mohinder settles between Gabriel’s spread legs and rolls his hips just enough to keep their erections rubbing against each other.  He watches Gabriel’s eyes roll back while he arches up, their bodies following the same rhythmic flow.  For all the talk of Gabriel’s special abilities, being able to evoke this kind of provocative reaction from him makes Mohinder feel as if he himself actually possesses a power.

 

Propping himself half up with his left elbow on the bed, Mohinder traces his right hand down the side of Gabriel’s body to his left thigh, lifting his leg to hook around his waist.  He thrusts his hips forward against Gabriel and they both gasp loudly at the electric arousal that sparks up every nerve ending.  Gabriel licks his lips and Mohinder slides his own tongue over top, luring him into another deep kiss.

 

He pulls back and smiles when Gabriel gazes hungrily at him.

 

“I think you’re going to have to teach me,” Mohinder says with a wink.

 

 

** **

** _~There Is No Place Like It~_ **

 The safe house is not exactly the quiet place Gabriel had in mind when he thought about being there with Mohinder.  Claire and Peter are already there waiting to brief them on the unexpected appearance of Dietmar at Sandra’s job.  The new identities that should have helped the Bennets had been breached and Claire was now defiantly insistent that she was a well equipped fighter who had better be put to use.  Rather than argue, Noah had agreed and sent Claire with Peter while he stayed behind to sort out safety measures for Sandra and Lyle.

 

Claire seemed ready to go and trigger happy to Gabriel.  He chalked it up to her not truly knowing what they were up against and although he was tempted to set the record straight in hopes of tempering her excitable agitation to get things started without proper planning, he also did not want to dissuade her from being as strong and cunning as possible.

 

In the second floor bedroom at the back of the house Gabriel looks up from repacking his bag to gaze at Mohinder who is fixing in place his gun harness over a purple t-shirt he changed into after the initial debriefing.  Peter and Clare are still talking downstairs, but Gabriel is more contemplative of what lies ahead for he and Mohinder.  In the midst of all the chaos they seem to have finally, after all this time, found _their _place.

 

Having this now, with the denial he had tried to live in locked away, brings a calm and storm to his heart.  Gabriel tries to understand what Mohinder has gone through in his mind to know their past and yet still look at him with that much want.  Gabriel can only imagine the terms that Mohinder has set for himself over time, the uncertainty that plagues his every move to bring him here.  If it is even half of what Gabriel has been through then Mohinder has journeyed more than most would in a lifetime.

 

Gabriel also worries.  Not that Mohinder will change his mind—though nothing is for certain, this much Gabriel knows.  His unease is in having all of this taken away from them.  When it was only him he could easily move his life in different directions to get what he wanted.  He could show up when and where he pleased, ulterior motives in his pocket and the sly grin of a predator at the fore.  But this life with Mohinder is something he wants so much that it hurts and he will do anything to stop anyone from trying to snatch it away.

 

Watching Mohinder fix the strap of the harness, Gabriel is reminded of the high cost inked in blood that he thought had already been paid with interest.  Just as Peter had warned that Mohinder would be used to force Gabriel’s hand, Gabriel knows that he is the reason Mohinder would be sought out as valuable prey.  It is a crushing responsibility and the fact that his own beginning transformation into Sylar and the life that followed is intricately wound up with Mohinder’s own diverted life plan from out of Chandra’s shadow makes their present tense tragically poetic.

 

He must be staring because suddenly he notices Mohinder looking at him with a befuddled expression.

 

“Are you okay?” Mohinder asks with a hesitative caution dragging out the question.

 

“Yes,” Gabriel says casually, if too quickly.  He turns up a small smile as a stray curl falls along the side of Mohinder’s face then distracts himself by zipping up his bag and dropping it to the floor.

 

“It’s the gun,” Mohinder muses, perceptively trying to lighten the mood.  “You still don’t trust me with it.  I’ll have you know I’m a pretty good shot considering I received no formal training.”

 

In a bid to avoid mind numbing seriousness until a more suitable time, Gabriel willingly plays the game by raising an eyebrow and tilting his head down to the side.  “That’s part of the problem. It all depends on who you’re shooting at.”

 

Mohinder rolls his eyes.  “Thank you.  Bennet’s already given me an earful.”

 

Gabriel grins and without warning it is as if they are in a high pressure chamber that is pushing in from all sides, holding them in place while wiping the smiles from their faces.  The gaze that stretches out between them is serene yet conscientious. 

 

To Gabriel, Mohinder is the exquisite physical rendering of his life story now standing before him:  he is the wide-eyed awe in Zane’s house when more vain self-importance guided Gabriel’s—_Sylar’s_—actions, and he is the embittered vengeful man who tried to kill Gabriel when broken lies imploded around them.  He is the false hope Gabriel had reached for who then became his reluctant savior.  He is the irritated and dismissive partner who was forced to look at the big picture over personal vendettas and in the process could no longer deny the connection that bound them from the start.  They have always orbited each other, to different extremes.  It is written.

 

Appearing pensive, Mohinder wrinkles his brow and strides towards him.  Gabriel can sense the energy jumping off of Mohinder’s body when he is still a decent distance away but he keeps his expression neutral, observational.  Once Mohinder enters his space he slowly uses his fingertips to feel his way up and down Gabriel’s arms, never letting their eye contact slip.  He steps closer and wraps his arms around Gabriel’s chest, pressing his palms to his lower back. 

 

Mohinder touches his forehead to Gabriel’s chest for a second then turns to rest the right side of his face against him.  Gabriel breathes him in, tickled by the wayward curls that halo Mohinder’s head, then tightly wraps his own arms around Mohinder’s shoulders and closes his eyes. 

  
Gabriel knows that he can be cavalier when it comes to dangerous situations.  Being aware of his prowess can breed a feeling of immortality.  But it is with Mohinder at his side, in his arms, where Gabriel feels safe.  They stay like this until time no longer matters in the grand scheme of things. 

 

Faint footsteps, however, break through Gabriel’s mind.  He opens his eyes to see Claire watching them for the doorway with curiosity and interest.  She meets his gaze and begins to back out of the room apologetically but Gabriel raises his right hand and beckons her back.

 

“Mohinder,” he whispers, letting go and turning him around.

 

“Sorry,” Claire says. “Peter just took off and I thought you guys would want to see who we’re pretending to be for Phoenix.”

 

She steps forward and hands Mohinder a file as he stammers, “Yes—I—of course,” and flips open the top flap.  While he begins skimming the information, Gabriel takes the opportunity to watch Claire eyeing them.  Her eyes travel Mohinder’s body and come back to rest on his face as he furrows his brow and twists his lips in annoyance.  Her expression softens a bit and Gabriel wonders what the joke is.  She glances at him and quickly looks back at Mohinder, a light pink flushing her cheeks, when she realizes she is being watched.

  
It is of interest to Gabriel to note that even though Mohinder is the one who shot her father; over time she found a way to still be more inclined to feel comfortable around him than with Gabriel.  He guesses it is a question of powers but there is also the recurring theme of moving forward.  At some point, outside of Gabriel’s watch, Mohinder and Claire had made their own peace.

 

“Why am I always a claims adjustor?” Mohinder asks looking unimpressed. 

 

Claire laughs.  “The job gives you a good excuse and the face gets you through the door.”

 

Mohinder narrows his eyes, silently asking her to explain.

 

“Your face is very…welcoming,” she says while trying to stifle her broadening grin.

 

“Warm,” Gabriel adds with a half smile and Mohinder looks his way.

 

“Innocent,” Claire offers with a shrug of her shoulders.

 

“You mean daft,” Mohinder says with irritation.  “I look too naïve to possibly be up to no good.”

 

“It worked with me,” Gabriel jokes and Mohinder purses his lips, fighting to keep a grin from appearing.

 

Closing the file and handing it to Gabriel, Mohinder asks, “Why can’t I be roguishly mysterious?”

 

“Because you’re—,”

  
“Well I mean—,”

 

Claire and Gabriel speak over each other.

  
Mohinder folds his arms across his chest and angles his head back, attempting, but not quite accomplishing, a very imposing appearance.  “I swear if either of you refer to me as pretty or exotic I’ll thrash you.”

 

Backing up in a false display of surrender, Claire throws up her arms and says, “Whoa, easy killer,” as she steps out of the room and heads downstairs.

 

Mohinder directs his gaze at Gabriel, cocking up one eyebrow, daring him to challenge the promise.  Gabriel shakes his head and tosses the file to the bed.  Mohinder turns around to pick up his jacket from the dresser that is against the far wall.

 

“Although you are kind of _pretty_,” Gabriel says.

  
Mohinder stops and looks over his shoulder.  “Consider yourself warned.”

 

Gabriel smirks.  “There’s something so _exotic_ about you,” he says, moving forward.

 

Mohinder turns around and helps close down the space between them.  “What did I just say?”

 

Gabriel eyes him closely then leans forward and lowly rumbles, “That you’d promise to thrash me.”

 

Mohinder sets firm eyes on him and then shoves Gabriel with a quick two hand push to his chest.  Gabriel takes a step back, grunting, then grabs a handful of Mohinder’s shirt and forces him backwards, thrusting him up hard against he wall and eliciting a surprised exclamation from Mohinder.  Gabriel presses their lower bodies together and leans forward to let his mouth graze against Mohinder’s ear.

 

“Have I got words that will make your blood boil,” Gabriel taunts.  Hearing Mohinder sigh he pulls back.  In a split second Mohinder is kissing him hard and insistently.  He feels Mohinder’s hand grasp at his back while he sucks along his lips and massages their tongues together.  Gabriel writhes and drags his left arm behind him to order the door closed for privacy when Mohinder abruptly halts the kiss.

 

Confused, Gabriel watches him rest his head against the wall.  “We should save this for a more appropriate time,” Mohinder manages to pant, his eyes unfocused, pupils dilated like saucers.

  
“What could be more appropriate?” Gabriel asks and follows up with a light kiss to Mohinder’s lips.

 

Mohinder wraps his right leg around Gabriel’s hip and brings his left hand up to stroke Gabriel’s stubbled cheek.  “We have company.”

 

“I can freeze her until we’re done.”

 

“Gabriel!”

 

Disappointed at the rebuke, Gabriel drops his face to Mohinder’s chest to collect himself and calm his endorphin rush.  The heat from Mohinder’s body, the steady heartbeat that pounds out an all too familiar refrain, and Mohinder’s arms holding him close, are enough to settle Gabriel’s fervent demands for the time being.

 

He steps back and frees Mohinder who, in turn, lets out a deep breath and walks over to the dresser to pick up his jacket before heading to the door.  Gabriel stays where he is, listening to the sound of Mohinder’s pounding heartbeat as it relaxes.  He smiles to himself as he hears Mohinder step up behind him and place a soft kiss to the back of his neck. 

 

Pushing up on his toes, Mohinder whispers to him, “All good things to those who wait,” as he reaches around to rub his stomach affectionately.

 

Gabriel waits for Mohinder to leave the room and make his way downstairs before wistfully replying, “I know.”

 


End file.
